


Abusive Lovers are the Best Lovers

by Pravus (Gamzees_DescendantCynically_Depressed)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-03 00:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamzees_DescendantCynically_Depressed/pseuds/Pravus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When South Italy is forced to move out of his brother's home, he turns to Canada.<br/>But Canada isn't normal, no no.<br/>He's changed.<br/>And South Italy gets the chance to "meet" what's dearest to Canada. His "Rebecca".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abusive Lovers are the Best Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> im-not-your-buddy-guy on tumblr inspired this.  
> 2P Canada belongs to beek on tumblr.  
> 2P Canada and South Italy as a coupling was kind of a conspiracy between me (fallingandrisingtomatoes) and im-not-your-buddy-guy on tumblr due to a 'put a ship in my ask box and I'll rate' kind of thing. I gave them 'Lovino and Canada?' and it just...  
> Came to be.  
> Please enjoy!

Lovino was angered as usual by time he came home from the office. Feliciano had given up trying to live with his older brother, and subsequently moved out, giving him a week to move out so Feliciano could take his house back. Grabbing a bottle of Giuseppe Quintarelli Rosso del Bepi 2002, he unscrewed the cork with his fingers.

"Ugh!" He mumbled, disgusted. Pouring a glass almost immediately, he drained it all, before pouring a second. Sipping this glass more conservatively, the Italian stared at his phone.

It was now or never. Call him and move in, giving Feliciano back his house...

Or get kicked out and live on the streets, half a nation or not.

Sighing, Lovino sipped the glass of wine again before picking up his phone.

"Bonjour, c'est quoi ce bordel que tu veux?" _[Hello, what the fuck do you want?]_ The French-Canadian voice, smooth, quiet, with hints of a dark undertone spoke.

"Ciao, è Lovino. I decided... Si, ti porterò su questa offerta." _[Hello, it's Lovino. I decided... Yes, I'll take you up on that offer.]_ Lovino was almost hesitant, twirling the phone cord around with nervous, olive-skinned fingers.

"Ah, je vois. Get your things. Vous être ici demain avec ta merde ou ne pas se déranger. Au revoir." _[You be here by tomorrow with your shit or don't bother showing up. Goodbye.]_ The Canadian was about to hang up, but was soon interrupted by an amusing bout of anger from the Italian on the other line.

"E che cosa ti dà il diritto di trattarmi come un pezzo di merda?! Ho passato attraverso più di quello che mai, e tu sei solo... Basta... Augh!" _[And what gives you the right to treat me like a piece of shit?! I've went through more than you ever have, and you're just... Just... Augh!]_

"Vous êtes de la merde... Pour moi." _[You are a piece of shit... To me.]_

"Augh! Fine, I'll be there by tomorrow! 'Vous êtes de la merde pour moi' indeed!" Lovino imitated the snarky statement from the Canadian, slamming the reciever down.

 

~~Timeskip~~

~~  
~~

Matthew chuckled darkly, listening to the dial tone before slowly clicking the reciever down into its cradle, spinning around in his chair to face the computer. He resumed his report on the recent hockey brawls, as much as he despised it. His boss was nothing but a wimp, a weakling, but he still had to bow to him. Tch...

At least he had his dearest Rebecca. Picking up the hockey stick, he lovingly trailed the maple wood of the stick. Matthew had always preferred wooden sticks to composite. Made for better... "Playing" with.

Barbed wire was wound around the blade, silver prickles tickling his scarred skin as he carefully caressed them. Lovino would learn to deal with him.

The Canadian continued to fondle his dear Rebecca, before finally returning the hockey stick to its normal place. E-mailing the report to the newspaper for his boss, he stretched out on his bed. He wore nothing but his boxers, the window wide open despite the cold temperature outside. He was actually anticipating for the easily enraged Italian to come live with him.

Fresh blood was good blood, as he always thought.

 

~~Timeskip~~

~~  
~~

Lovino was at Matthew's door by nine am the next day, bundled up as if he were going to Siberia. A long, black winter coat, buttoned to the neck, with a hat and scarf. Matthew answered the door in just his boxers, rolling his eyes. He led him to the spare room, dropping Lovino's stuff. "Here, you'll stay here." Lovino finally took the coat, hat, and scarf off, putting his things away. After about an hour of putting the room to his liking- after all, Matthew said he could. Leaving the room, he stopped at the place where Matthew last left Rebecca. He didn't know how precious it was to him. Gently picking up the wooden stick from curiousity, he trailed his fingers over it, raising a brow at the barbed wire.

"Put. The. Girl. Down." Matthew's voice was edged on the border of snapping and calm. It was eerily quiet for the next five seconds, before Lovino slowly put the stick down.

"Calm down! I put it down. It's not a girl."  
"Her name's Rebecca!" Matthew then snapped, grabbing the handle of the stick and swinging, easily lodging it into Lovino's arm.

"Augh!" Lovino stumbled backward, gripping his arm. The flesh was torn so badly that some bits of his skin were stuck in the barbed wire of "Rebecca", blood pouring down both the wire and Lovino's arm. Realizing how much blood was lost after a minute of silence, Lovino actually passed out, olive skin going paler.

"Shit shit shit _shiiit_!" Matthew muttered. Tossing the bloodied "Rebecca" onto the bed, he immediately called the hospital. Strange. He actually felt... _Guilty_. Shrugging off the strange feeling, he picked Lovino up and began wrapping his arm, trying to staunch off the rest of the blood. It soaked the towel, and Matthew threw on jeans and a shirt, as well as sneakers, so he could hop in the medical van with him.

 

~~Timeskip~~

 

Matthew had a bit of gauze wrapped around the crook of his arm. He watched, with his blue-violet eyes actually worried behind his shades. His blood type had matched Lovino's, so he'd given the blood the Italian needed. After all, it was his fault. Lovino slept now, on morphine, with a blood bag and an IV drip. For some reason... Matthew had the strangest urge to kiss the Italian. Shrugging it off, he watched the brunette's chest rise and fall slowly, his eyelids staying shut, his black eyelashes caressing olive cheeks.

"La perfection..." _[Perfection...]_ He mumbled, looking over the quietly sleeping Italian. Matthew leaned forward, kissing the other's forehead. He was never this gentle, this _caring_ after beating on someone with Rebecca. Never. It couldn't be... No. He was _not_  falling for the Italian. _No no no no no no no NO._

"Nnn..." Lovino mumbled, eyelids fluttering as he began to wake. Matthew's face seemed to relax, a soft, inaudible sigh coming from his lips.

"Désolé de cet homme..." _[Sorry about that man...]_ Matthew mumbled, looking...  _Ashamed_.

"Sorry?! You nearly break my arm and nearly kill me in one shot and all you can say is sorry?!" Lovino snarled, sitting up and ignoring his dizziness as he grabbed Matthew by the collar. Before the Canadian could react...

Lovino had kissed him.

After a heart pounding, head spinning, world changing minute, Matthew finally broke for air and was able to utter a simple question.

"... Est-ce que ça va?" _[Are you alright?]_ He mumbled, looking through the shades on his face and his blonde hair.

"Sì, benissimo... Coglione. Ti amo." _[Yes, I'm fine... Asshole. I love you.]_ Lovino smiled, actually _shy._ Matthew chuckled, before responding.

"Je t'aime, Lovino. Je t'aime." Matthew kissed his nose, gripping his hand.


End file.
